There will be no meeting. Go deeper– is it quiet there?
He is the one you could never have. Though he could
Never not be yours. Deeper– it’s the sound of waking.
When we were younger we could drink a lot more
Coffee. I remember our first cup together. In the depths
Of the night, its upside down ocean, sound is replaced
By a strange pressure on the ears. On the entire surface
Of your body. This is where fissures open up in the roof
And new mountains emerge. It’s where stars are born.
Where a shy medallion spilled from God’s pirate ship
twined through the waves of dark sleep and became
The moon. Some hearts would explode from the pressure
Mine is like the cork that has to be pushed back
Into the wine bottle corkscrewed side down. Torn
But doing its job. Deeper but not so deep
You couldn’t pluck it out with your bare hand.
Sometimes a memory is tame as soft rain, deeper
than falling asleep, like a read book empty and full
at the same time, the sound of a candle in the room.